Skipping between radio stations yesterday, I happened upon this song. I’ve always loved it and I suppose I always knew the day would come when I would hear it for the first time after Dad’s death. Yesterday was that day.
Dad passed away early in the morning of the 31st of January a few weeks ago and, as the song says, I miss him. He was 91 and many at the funeral said what a great age that was and what a long innings he had. It doesn’t matter to me.
I miss him and I regret not having said so many things to him and I regret not having asked him so many questions and I regret not having spent more time with him. Regret, grief and pain is what it’s about at the moment.
I regret not getting to Jack Meade’s (under the bridge) for one last drink with him . We spent a few wonderful hours there, one winter’s evening, a number of years ago, together in the snug beside a blazing open fire. I have no idea what we chatted about. It doesn’t really matter. It was so good to be there with him.
Here’s to you Dad !